Mithrin III: I Drench My Blade In Blood
by Geale
Summary: A short interlude, the third part in the Mithrin series and the sequel to “Hearing You”. Legolas’ experiences in Mirkwood after his father called him home from Imladris. Legolas/Aragorn assumed. Violence, AU


**The story: **A short interlude, the third part in the Mithrin series and the sequel to "Hearing You". We last saw a young Legolas leaving Imladris, answering his father's call to help with the fight against the growing darkness in Mirkwood, his home. Now innocence is torn into shards.

**Timeline: **This takes place in the Third Age (III) 2948, seven years after The White Council drove the Necromancer (later proved to be Sauron) out of Dol Guldur in Mirkwood. Only a few weeks have passed since Legolas left Imladris, and Estel.

**Warnings: **This is an Aragorn/Legolas pairing. I'm only hinting towards feelings already awakened, but nonetheless, slash it is.

This short piece is not gentle, but it is written with love.

**Disclaimer: **The world of Tolkien belongs to him. Reverently, I lend a small piece of it.

Enjoy!

**I Drench My Blade In Blood**

**The darkened realm of Mirkwood, Quellë, III 2948**

_Take it away! Throw it into the fire! Melt it, extinguish it… _

_Save me from this doom…_

_Never shall I touch it again._

o.O.o

They had to drag me from the small clearing. My screams mingled with the rustle of fading leaves, the cries of my kinsfolk, the eerie, sweeping whispers of arrows on the wind, the lamenting song of the night – that bloodied, decaying, dying song that would not leave my soul in peace. For there was no peace to be had.

My screams blended with his.

First, his roar of laughter as he nonchalantly strode towards me in the shadows. He rejoiced as my trembling hands were unable to direct an arrow in his way. They missed him, one by one, and my arm grew weary and my eyes lost their focus for he would soon be upon me. As my arrows sped into the night, but barely brushed the steel of his armour, he laughed.

Second, his cry of triumph when he was only a few feet away. No trees could hide me now, and even though Ithil refused to shine down upon the grove – maybe to spare the heavens the dreadful sight of the battle – the torches brought by him and his fellow comrades cast their flickering tongues of firelight in amongst the branches. I backed away, my quiver nearly emptied, with my heart throbbing in my throat. He cried out then, as I hit the stem of a tree, too old and drained of life to be of any aid to me.

Third, his appreciative grunt when he spied my blond hair, tangled and fallen. His deformed face, blackened and smouldered, alight with a terrible hatred of the elves turned into a mask of victory. His heavy breathing stole my own breath from me as if he had already conquered my body. He groaned as he set one hand of iron upon my chest and pushed me against the tree.

Fourth, a snarl that for a second made me think he would abandon me for a greater treasure. I was wrong. He leant into me and his foul stench penetrated the fabric of my clothes. His nose was torn apart, by an earlier battle or by this one I could not say. No hair covered his head and I could see that some blade sometime had cloven his only ear in two pieces. Darkened blood crept from his body onto mine and marked me. As his. As the property of this turning, downward-spiralling world. He snarled at me, and his teeth, brown and yellow flashed in the torchlight.

Fifth, he howled like the wild beast he was and reached for a notched dagger with his free hand. My throat was bared to him as was the rest of my face. Fear gripped me then, like the tongs in the hand of a masterful smith. Around me, my friends, my father's people, were fighting desperately this cursed night. Too engaged in saving their own lives, none of them risked a straying glance.

_Elbereth, have mercy upon my soul!_

Were there stars to be sighted from the windows of the Halls of Mandos?

Unbidden, words drifted through me.

'_Do you like stars?' Your voice is low and there is a note in it I cannot define._

_I nod. 'So does every elf, I guess, but yes, I do like the stars. It is also the name of my horse – Êl.'_

_You do not reply to this immediately. When you do, you speak almost in a whisper._

'_They frighten me.'_

_Now I turn back to you. You are hugging you knees and your chin is settled between them. _

'_Why do they frighten you?' I ask, tilting my head._

'_The heavens are so vast. They hold all knowledge… and they see me. It is so very… much.'_

The pressure on my chest increased, it weighed me down and I tasted the first bitter drink of death.

_Will you ever know?_

Sixth, he yelled loudly and menacingly as he raised his blade. For a moment, the pressure eased and a trace of fresh air filled the small space between us. I staggered and my arm brushed against my belt and the slim knife sheathed there. Knowing this to by my last chance, I grasped for it with numb fingers and without seeing, I thrust it into his throat. As his black blood cascaded over us, his scream ripped another one from my own chest. I frantically pushed at him. His body erupted into a spastic form as I pounded my fists against his armour, rasping my skin and drawing blood that mingled with his. My blade was still deeply imbedded in his throat and the sight burned my eyes. When he fell to the ground at my feet, I was shaking so violently I could barely stand. Never-ending, hoarse screams thrashed my body and did not cease until strong hands and rushed words in elvish forced me away from the battle scene.

o.O.o

I lie upon the forest floor. They have covered me with a blanket and given me something hot to drink. I know not what.

My knife lies two feet away but I refuse to touch it. The simple weapon is a constant reminder:

I have killed.

What am I?

I am no better than the orcs that attacked us this night when we thought we would only battle the spiders. Hidden in the darkness, they waited until we had done away with the spiders. Then they sprang forward.

A gentle rain begins to fall but I am too weary to react. This rain could never cleanse the blood from my soul. That blood that I have drawn.

What is happening to me?

_Seas… Have mercy._

My eyes drift shut and I willingly offer myself to the nourishing world beyond the waking one.

What will you think of me now?

**Fin**

**Translations:**

Quellë - the Quenya name for autumn

Ithil - the elvish name for the moon (Sindarin)

Êl – star (Sindarin)

_seas_ – please (Sindarin)


End file.
